


The Beginning of a New Year

by lazily_astray



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drunklock, Multi, New Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:50:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazily_astray/pseuds/lazily_astray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Year and intoxication pretty much comes hand in hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning of a New Year

**Author's Note:**

> I actually started this when the year was still fresh, hence the theme.

It was the morning after. _After what, exactly?_ The sun shone irritably brightly through the gaps in the curtains. Angled right at him, the light was striking enough to rouse the sleeping man. Heavily hungover as well, as he realised in the succeeding seconds. 

It took him long confusing moments to recollect what happened the previous night. Not that much could be recollected. He owed his amnesia to the knocked over bottles he could see sprawled across the floor. _Of course._ Accompanying a carelessly thrown pair of jeans and a shirt suspiciously like his, purple.

His eye eventually caught the sight of a leg, a naked leg, over the blanket. It was muscular and hairy, far too much to be Mary's, or even a woman's. It moved. _Thank god_ it was his, giving out a nervous laugh. What the hell even happened last night? New Years' celebrated a bit too enthusiastically, that's what. He hadn't noticed it at first, but the bedroom was his old room of Baker Street. The first assumptions that flooded him were that he was _home._ As he shuffled, he felt a long arm wrapped around his torso, quite comfortably. He could feel the face buried into his back, as if kissing him in his sleep, the lush curls lightly tickling him. Smiling, he turned to face Mary. He gave her a fervent kiss on her temple. She didn't notice, so fast asleep. With still sleepy eyes, he worked his way down via small chaste kisses to her cheek. Finally he was down her neck where he was now passionate and wet, till she woke up.

" _John?_ " Mary spoke in a rich baritone. Even her fair hair seemed to have- actually had- turned as dark as night. Okay.

John tried not to scream at this witchcraft. _Please let it be fucking witchcraft._

"...Mary..."

"I'm not-"

"Shut up." _Snap out of your heavy baritone, my love._

The one who lay beside him, as speechless as he was, sat up to look him in the eye. 

"John I think-"

"NO!" John lay on his belly in one swift turn, covering his head with his pillow. that was to avoid looking at Sherlock, but mostly to asphyxiate himself. 

"John," Sherlock pulled the pillow off of his face, and though he struggled to relieve it from John's grip, he got it off and urgently covered John's bare arse with it. John protectively reached out for his butt, stunned by feeling contact there, but when he realised Sherlock was only covering it since it was so _exposed,_ he only buried his head further into the mattress. 

" _Jesus fucking christ-_ " John trailed off to groan. 

"John, I think... I think we were intoxicated, weren't we?" 

Still turned away from his platonic companion, John sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. He held the pillow behind his arse protectively. He could've sworn it felt weird, his arse.

"No _shit,_ Sherlock." John didn't seem like he could say anything else.

"From the amount of bottles littered on the ground and the distance at which each piece of clothing is thrown around the room, I would say we were exactly, erm, _very_ drunk." 

"No shit, Sherlock." He really couldn't get himself to say anything else.

Sherlock could merely clear his throat. Neither of them got up to fetch their clothes. They were immobilised. The sounds of their breaths were too fucking loud for the other to hear. 

"I think I've got a bloody hangover," John said, as he clutched his throbbing head. "Yep, it's a hangover."

"Oh, pity. I may have one too." _Good. The subject's changed, we can all go live our normal lives._

Suddenly, John felt Sherlock's breathing on his bare shoulder. Sherlock was sitting with his legs crossed _right behind him,_ and John could have _really_ used some personal space at that moment.

"Sherlock..."

Sherlock brought his lips close to John's right ear, and in a hot, heavy breath, whispered, "Is there any point in maintaining personal space _now,_ John?" 

John stopped breathing, his eyes wide open. 

Just then, Sherlock's head fell onto his shoulder and stayed there. He slid his arms through John's arm, around his stomach, even though John had his arms tight closed. 

Of _course._ Sherlock was still a bit drunk. Everyone gets intimate when they're drunk. John should have deduced that by observing how the slight slur Sherlock spoke in before. A little bit of Sherlock had rubbed off on John. Which reminded him...

"Sherlock?"

"Mmhm?" Sherlock sort of yawned.

"Do you think we..." John trailed off, cleared his throat.

"We what?"

"You know..." John suddenly realised how stupid the question was. Liquor bottles empty on the floor, clothes thrown all around, completely rumpled bed sheets. He already knew the answer, but there was still a little bit of hope. 

"The evidence is all around you,"

"Yes, I know. I just-"

"Don't be so thick." Sherlock looked over John's shoulder, "And tell that to your erection too."

" _Jesus-_ " he frantically reached around for the protective pillow behind him, but quickly put it back when he got to _feel_ how close and naked Sherlock was.

"Isn't that enough evidence for last night, John?" 

John considered Sherlock's nonchalance towards this matter. He turned his head to look at Sherlock's face. He could feel his face by his cheek.

"Sherlock, why are you not freaking out about this?" John was had gotten more reasons to get worried about now.

"Here's the thing about sociopaths, John. We can lock our feelings away whenever the fuck we want."

"Right." _Lucky bastard. Why couldn't_ I _be a murderous dick?_

They just sat there, John trying to either let the whole thing sink in or trying to deny it all together, and Sherlock trying to keep his "off switch" in place. The latter, amidst his thoughts, straightened up. John looked back wondering, "What's wrong?", and then wondered why he felt Sherlock's embrace to be normal in the first place. 

"John, maybe we didn't."

John turned around in a swift eager move. "Why do you think that? Sherlock you better be sure about this I _swear to god_." 

"Well, the room doesn't really smell... weird."

"What do you mean?"

"I've read the smell of semen released after ejaculation can leave a scent behind." 

_Read about it? Bloody virgin._

But bloody hell he's right. John took in deep breaths, trying not to seem too obvious. _The air's clean! Hallelujah!_

"I'm straight!" He sprung to his feet and gave a deep sigh of relief. "Heheh I thought that we- Thank _god._ What would I have told Mary..." He wiped his forehead. Sherlock quickly threw him the Protective Pillow.

"Oh my GOD!" This scream was too high pitched to be Sherlock's. Mary, who'd originally been on Sherlock's right, sat up covering herself with the bed sheet in a panic. Everyone freaked. John began thinking up of "what to tell Mary" and Sherlock turned towards her, wanting to analyse who the fuck that was. 

"Sh-Sherlock's _naked?_ " Sherlock quickly bunched up some of the bed sheet to cover his own self, sort of mirroring Mary.

Mary and Sherlock burst out laughing. John just... he couldn't.

"Did we have an actual _orgy?_ "

"We have a theory that we were highly intoxicated."

"I'll say. We all downed all of Mycroft's wine last night, didn't we?" Memories were flooding back into her.

"Mycroft? Do you think he's still here?" John asked.

"Most probably, judging by the manner he and Lestrade were getting on." 

The two men had been "getting on" from even before Sherlock had gotten amnesically drunk. They all nodded considerately at Sherlock's deduction.

"So, should we just ignore this, or...?" 

"Let's get some breakfast!"

Sherlock strutted off to his room to give Mary and John the privacy to change. 

***

"You know, a woman's sense of smell is much stronger than a man's."

"Oh?" John had no idea what Mary was on about. He continued eating his eggs, Sherlock sipped his tea. Nobody wanted to wake Mycroft and Lestrade just yet.

"You and Sherlock were wrong about the room, you know. I remember you both were just going at each other, fucking hard, pounding, till you boys came. Four times."

John choked, Sherlock spat his tea all over the newspaper. Mary sipped her own tea and grinned.

 

 


End file.
